


Cut It Out

by avengingblackthorns



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Comfort, Healing, Reader-Insert, and a haircut, canon bucky, tooth-rotting fluff mixed with a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengingblackthorns/pseuds/avengingblackthorns
Summary: Bucky needs an extra push to put his turbulent past behind him.





	Cut It Out

The unmistakable whirr of a jet engine could be heard outside before voices filtered around the compound moments later, signalling the team’s arrival. They had been away on an early morning mission upstate and after much debate, (Y/N) had been benched due to the broken rib she had sustained on the previous mission. Tony insisted the mission was not of huge importance anyway but nonetheless, she felt like a wasted asset wandering through the empty compound waiting for their return. Deciding to spend her morning more productively, she began to type up mission reports and file documents that had accumulated in Pepper’s absence while she was at meetings in Washington. She rubbed her sore eyes once she finished typing up the last report and went to greet her team who had changed out of their tactical suits. Her eyes scanned the joint kitchen and dining area where they had gathered but she was missing one particular face.

“Where’s Buck?” she asked no one in particular, concern lacing her voice.

“Said he was going to get some rest. The mission really took it out of the old man” Steve replied fondly with a small smile. With that, she spun on her heels to head towards the sleeping quarters of the building but not before Tony called after her sarcastically. “The mission went great, thanks for asking kid!”

She would have asked but there wasn’t a scratch on anyone and in that moment, her main concern was Bucky. Despite having made tremendous progress both mentally and emotionally since his ordeal with Hydra, Bucky had become worryingly closed off again in the past week. Since developing a relationship with her, she had become Bucky’s confidante and he told her things even Steve didn’t know. He had put immense trust in her and she nurtured him and his mental health back to a state that finally began to resemble the lively man he once was before he had been captured in 1945.

She knocked softly on his door and when no answer came, she creaked it open to see the room was cloaked in darkness. The drapes were drawn and Bucky was tucked under the covers, his metal arm glinting even in the dim light. He had only started wearing t-shirts recently. Before, he wouldn’t dare wear anything other than long-sleeved garments and thick jackets to conceal his arm, conceal the thing that brought him a suffocating amount of guilt every time he looked at it. Now, he had grown to acknowledge what had happened to him and that the atrocities he and the arm had caused over the years were through no fault of his own. It had been a long, arduous road but the small victory of getting him to ditch the long sleeves warmed her heart. The sight in front of her, however, positively shattered it.

Splayed out on his back, Bucky’s eyes were screwed shut and beads of sweat began to gather on his furrowed brow. His hands - flesh and metal alike - gripped the covers either side of him like a vice. His lips moved but his words failed him. Instead, harsh pants escaped his parted lips. It sickened her to admit that this had become a regular sight for her to behold but no matter how many times she experienced it, she never got used to it. A pained groan escaped his throat and she shot to his side, illuminating the bedside lamp.

“Buck honey, wake up!” she urged as she shook his shoulders. Had it been a number of months ago, it was considered a danger to pull him from an episode like this. The flashbacks caused him to wake up believing he was back in that god-forsaken lab having his brain re-programmed to become the Winter Soldier again. This meant he often woke with a violent start, metal arm clicking and forcefully punching whatever was nearest to him. Luckily, her training meant she always managed to dodge his fist but that didn’t stop him from losing sleep - sick with the worry that there was a possibility that he could hurt her.

His eyes flung open as he shot up on the mattress, pupils dilated to a mere pinprick among a sea of icy blue. Instinctively and immediately, her arms wrapped around his shoulders whilst she softly spoke reassuring words. His chest heaved as his quick breaths gradually slowed as he calmed.

“I thought they weren’t as frequent anymore” she questioned gently, raking her fingers through his long, dark hair to soothe him. An exhausted sigh came from beneath her, hot breath fanning against her neck.

“They just haven’t been as...graphic,” he replied hoarsely. “Still pretty frequent.”

“What was it this time?” She felt his arms slowly wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him for comfort. She was his security blanket.

“I was back in the lab. He was saying all the trigger words...trying to get the other guy to come out. Wouldn’t happen though...I knew it was a flashback,” he explained without looking at her. After a long pause, his piercing eyes found hers and regarded her unwaveringly - as though he hadn’t just been writhing in trauma moments beforehand. “That’s the first time I didn’t go Winter Soldier in a dream before.”

She offered him a small smile before planting a lingering kiss on his clammy forehead, strands of hair stuck haphazardly to it. That’s what he loved about her; she didn’t give him sympathetic smiles or look at him with eyes heavy with pity. It was always pride, support, unconditional love and care. It’s funny how in the midst of a situation like this he was wondering how he got so lucky. “It may not seem like it right now, but that’s a good sign. It means your brain is finally beginning to reject him.”

“Doesn’t feel much like progress. Feels like I’ll never get rid of him” he muttered, casting his eyes downward despairingly.

“Y’know, Bruce was telling me how even the smallest details can trigger PTSD. I think this-” she explained running her fingers along the cool metal of his exposed arm, “is helping you subconsciously kick these memories.”

“So, what do you have in mind?” Bucky quizzed, voice as thick as syrup with grogginess but the intrigue was clear on his features as he gazed up at her expectantly. Cocking her head to the side, she hummed as she pondered for suggestions. She could almost feel the light bulb spark in her mind when her eyes landed on the chocolate locks still woven around her fingers.

“I don’t know if you’ll like this suggestion or not,” she started apprehensively. “But maybe, it would help if you ditched the hair.” Bucky looked thoughtful as she continued, tilting his head forward slightly so his long hair dangled in front of his face. “As ridiculous as it sounds, you’ve had the same hairstyle since you came out of cryo. Aside from the arm, it’s the one thing that identifies you as him.”

Bucky had never thought about that. There were times he had forced himself out of his comfort zone and joined (Y/N) on a walk around the quieter parts of the city and despite hiding his arm under a leather jacket and gloves, he was still met with uneasy and arguably scared glances from passersby. Some even ushered their children away from him, terrified he would snap back to a weaponised mind at any moment. Now that he thought about it, the long hair hanging from beneath the baseball caps he borrowed from Steve was probably a dead giveaway. Civilians didn’t see much else on the breaking news reports besides his arm and his hair. “Okay,” he replied simply.

She looked taken aback at how quickly he agreed but she stood and offered him a hand. Pulling him up from the bed, she led him to the en-suite bathroom and ordered him to sit on the lid of the toilet as she rifled through the cabinets for an electronic razor. When the new facility to house the Avengers was built, Tony spared no expense in fully kitting out every room in the state-of-the-art building. She eventually found the razor behind pricey massage equipment to soothe sore muscles after particularly trying missions (though they were rarely required by a super soldier that healed far quicker than the others) and a year’s supply of toiletries. She moved to stand in front of him and the razor whizzed into action but he pulled back.

“Wait, you sure you know what you’re doin’, doll?” he said with a teasing smirk, the more carefree side of Bucky sneaking back in. She tilted her head and guffawed in mock offence.

“I used to cut my brother’s hair all the time when he was little. Think I know what I’m doing” she retorted sassily and ruffled his long hair one last time as he held up his hands in surrender, a smile creeping across his face.

“How’s the rib?” he asked as she got to work with the shears first, cutting the longer lengths away from his face. His flesh hand came up to her side and gently rested where she had landed two weeks ago when she was shoved from the deck of a Navy ship carrying weapons that had been hijacked and was sailing for the Hudson River, landing with a crack on the railings.

“It’s fine, just bruised now. I totally could’ve gone on that mission” she scoffed stubbornly. He chuckled at her eagerness.

“Well, ya didn’t miss much” he stated tiredly, closing his eyes in relaxation while he stroked her side with his thumb as his other hand came to rest on the outside of her thigh to keep her steady. Her heart still swooped uncontrollably when he touched her with such tenderness. It had taken him months to accept affection from her and even longer before he began to reciprocate. Nowadays, there was no such thing as being too close for Bucky. She had been so incredibly patient and gentle with him - and Bucky hadn’t experienced much of either in his lifetime.

Strand after thick strand tumbled from his head to the marble tiles beneath his bare feet as her hands moved expertly across his scalp. He had almost been lulled back to sleep until her hand came to his chin and she tilted his face up to look at her. She gazed down at him lovingly before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You look so handsome,” she said quietly with a languid smile then nodded towards the mirror on the wall beside him. “C’mere, see what you think.”

He stood and hesitated for a brief moment before looking at his reflection. Staring back at him was the young man from the 107th. When he moved his head to inspect her handiwork, the ends of his hair didn’t brush against the back of his neck or against his cheeks. It had now been cut short with a little length left on top like he kept it back in the forties. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t looking at a twisted experiment at the hands of Hydra. He was looking at James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes - a kid from Brooklyn with aspirations and hopes and dreams. He watched his reflection as two arms wrapped around his mid-section and her chin came up to rest on his shoulder. His lips quirked up into an amused smile knowing that she definitely had to be standing on her tip-toes to reach his shoulder.

“Well?” she asked then chewed her bottom lip nervously, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Reaching down to wrap his fingers around her hands, he brought them to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His voice was low and sincere when he spoke.

“It looks great. Thank you, doll.”

She stepped around him so she could reach up and fluff his hair as she gave it one final inspection. “I tried to style it the way it was in some of the photographs I saw of you with the Howling Commandos. Plus, I selfishly kept it a little longer on top so I could still do this.”

Stood on tip-toes again - because _god_ , was he tall - she ran both of her hands from his hairline to the back of his head and a breathy chuckle rumbled in his chest, making her smirk cheekily. His eyes seemed to twinkle as he looked at himself one more time, the man he once was clawing his way back in and kicking the Winter Soldier to the kerb like he had done to the punks who picked on Steve way back when. The weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders - metaphorically and literally. He felt he could breathe easier.

“I think it’s helping already,” he said truthfully, leaning down to connect his forehead with hers.

“Glad to hear that, Sarge” she replied with a brush of her nose against his. He kissed her sweetly then and she giggled when he pulled back. “It’s no wonder how you managed to charm half of the eligible ladies in New York into dancing with you back in the day when you looked like this.”

Playful, fun-loving Bucky came rushing back like a freight train as he shot her a lopsided grin while his hands met the back of her thighs, hoisting her up onto the counter behind her as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. She gaped at his sudden change in demeanour as he shot her a wink, miles away from the person in the midst of a trauma-induced nightmare not long ago.

“Maybe so. But there’s only one lady in the city who I wanna charm the pants off of.”

**Author's Note:**

> i really need to chill the whole 'writing on the spur of the moment as soon as i get an idea' thing i've got going on lately. let me know what you guys think!
> 
> follow me on tumblr: hawkinstarks.tumblr.com


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